Chapter One
Nicholas
“You’re the biggest asshole in the world!”
I raise an eyebrow. Alicia’s sharp accusation was expected, but the accompanying theatrics are over-the-top, even for her. Her impressive chest heaves in the low-cut green dress she bought with my money. Maybe she wants me to feel bad about turning her down, but all I can think is that she needs to see her colorist. Dark roots clash with her over-bleached platinum hair. And the fake lash over her left eye isn’t well glued. Every time she blinks, it droops a little.She can’t feel that?
Well-heeled diners in designer clothes start turning discreetly to catch the drama. A woman in a mauve dress drops her napkin and takes a quick look at our table as she retrieves it. These people might be wealthy enough to eat at a glitzy restaurant with a menu that doesn’t have prices, but they aren’t impervious to the thrill of witnessing a juicy scene. And Alicia’s shrill tone promises just that.
“It isn’t that much money,” she adds in a slightly calmer voice. She knows I hate drama.
The disappointment from the people around us is palpable. They were hoping she’d throw the ’98 Lafitte at me. But that’d be a terrible move. I’m steady and reasonable as long as I’m not pushed too far. But when I’ve had enough, I explode. Most people never see it because my threshold is high. Not even my brothers, except for that one time in high school.
“I’m not throwing money at some whim of yours,” I say calmly.
“It’s abusiness.”
“With no plans or financial projections.”
“It’s going to be profitable, Nicholas. I’m giving you an opportunity to invest early. It’s only two million dollars. Not that much money. Practically pocket change.”
That’s rich, coming from a girl who maxed out seven credit cards. The only reason she hasn’t declared bankruptcy is that her hedge fund manager daddy is paying off the balances. “In that case, just scoop it up from between your couch cushions.”
She leans forward. “Your new car is worth half a million.”
“Exactly. I don’t even spend two million on a car forme, and I’m not spending that kind of money on your ‘business.’ I’m not your piggy bank.”
“I’ll pay it back.”
“A sloth will finish a marathon before you can make enough to repay the interest-free loan you’re asking for.”
“Why do you have to be so greedy?” she demands. “I’ve been counting on your support!”
“Because it’s my money, not yours, and I’m not your father.” My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, which flashes a text from my stepsister.
–Georgia: Hey, are you in town? If so, can you come to Eat Pray Drink now?
–Me: What’s that?
–Georgia: A bar. It’s Molly’s birthday, and she’s a little drunk. And nobody can drive her home.
Molly. Georgia’s best friend and fellow UC Irvine student, who just turned twenty-one today. Everyone she’s out with is probably pickled in alcohol, including my stepsister.
–Georgia: I’m also in no condition to drive, so I’m going to walk over to Jerry’s. But Molly probably wants to head home. You remember where our apartment is?
–Me: Of course. I helped you move.
Mainly because I wanted to spend some time with Molly. Otherwise I would’ve just hired a crew to help Georgia.
–Georgia: If you can’t, I’ll ask somebody else. Maybe Dan. I think he said he wasn’t going to drink that much.
Dan, huh?Does she honestly think I’m going to trust a tipsy college kid with Molly?
–Me: I’ll be there. Tell Molly to hang tight.
–Georgia: Thanks. I knew I could count on you.
More like I told her not to screw around with her or Molly’s safety. Although those two didn’t enter my life until three years ago, I take their wellbeing seriously. Georgia because she’s my stepsister, and Molly… Well, because she’s just special. The smile on her face when we first met struck me like Cupid’s proverbial arrow, and I haven’t been able to fully shake it off even though I know she’s too young. I’m eight years older, and we don’t have a lot in common.
